


Topsy Turvy

by youwerefantasticrose



Category: Doctor Who, Roski - Fandom, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:06:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youwerefantasticrose/pseuds/youwerefantasticrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki plays a prank on Rose, but it backfires. Or does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Topsy Turvy

“‘M home,” Rose says as she walks in the door, her breath fogging in front of her. She shivers, her brow furrowing. “Why is it so bloody cold in here?”

She steps into the pitch dark living room, tossing her purse towards the chair she knows is there. It hits the floor with a crash, its contents spilling all over the floor, and she almost falls, shocked by the sudden sound and almost tripping over a rolling lipstick.

She reaches for the light switch, and it isn’t there. She gropes along the wall, reaching and feeling nothing.

“Loki,” she yells. “What the hell is going on?”

“What do you mean?” he breathes in her ear.

She shrieks, turning around, able to just barely see his outline in the dark.

“Loki,” she says, annoyance in her voice. He steps closer, and her breathing hitches, more goosebumps sprouting on her neck that have nothing to do with the cold.

He leans in, warm breath on her face. 

“Yes?”

“Turn on the fucking light.”

He sighs, taking a step back, and with a snap of his fingers, the light comes on. From the floor.

“Oh, what the hell?”

The whole room has been flipped upside down. She and Loki stand on the ceiling, the light coming from below them. She looks up, and gasps. All of the furniture is on the ceiling, somehow stuck up there in the same arrangement it’s usually in on the floor.

She turns back to Loki, glaring at him. He smirks.

“Gotcha,” he says.

“Seriously? I’m gonna kill you,” she says, smacking him on the arm. “Please tell me the whole house isn’t like this.”

He grins, and she knows it is.

“You’re an idiot,” she says, fighting a smile, and his grin widens. “Now put it back, I’d like to go to sleep sometime.”

His smirk falters, and she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Loki. I said put it back.”

He coughs. “Well, actually, I can’t quite do that.”

“And why not?”

“Well, my magic’s not quite as strong here. I didn’t realize, but it’ll take a little time to… refuel, if you will.”

She glares at him.

“I can fix it tomorrow, I swear!”

“I’m really gonna kill you. Where am I supposed to sleep?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile gracing his lips.

A few minutes later, they’ve managed to wrangle the blankets and pillows from her bed, Rose sitting on Loki’s shoulders, pulling them down with a broom handle. She sets up a pallet on the floor in her bedroom, and she lays down, wrapping herself in it. 

Loki watches her.

“What?” she says.

“I could use some blankets too,” he says, pouting.

“Yeah, well, you should have thought of that before,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him. “Goodnight.”

He rolls his eyes, and he’s halfway down the hallway (or the ceiling of the hallway, actually) when she calls him back.

“Why is it so bloody cold?” she asks him, teeth chattering even under all the blankets.

“Turning the heater upside down did not suit it, apparently.”

She rolls her eyes, and looks at him, clad in a t-shirt and boxers.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“A bit. But I’ll be fine. It’s my own fault.”

He turns to leave, and she sighs dramatically.

“Well, I guess you could sleep here, if you want. Just so we don’t freeze.”

His eyes widen in surprise, and he turns to see her holding up the blankets, making room for him.

He nods, suddenly at a loss for words, and he joins her on the floor, turning off the lights with a flick of his finger. She pulls the blankets over them, and he lays on his back, putting a good foot of space between them, his heart beating wildly. They’re both quiet.

She scoots closer, pressing her body into his in the dark. He freezes, and she reaches for his arm, pulling it over her.

“I’m cold, you idiot. Get over here.”

He turns, and she presses into him, warm and soft and he swallows hard, his arm settling over her.

She sighs, and his eyes close, a small smile settling on his face.

“I’ll get you back, you know.”

He’s counting on it.


End file.
